crossroads, 1/1, Sam & Dean, girl!Sam/Dean

title: crossroadscharacter(s): Sam and Dean Winchesterrating: Rword Count: 3734summary: Sam's not the only one who has visions. Why does Dean suddenly feel like he's living two lives?warnings: Gen, with a AU incest.note: Thank you very much to the incredibly kind musesfool for the beta and giving me just the type of feedback I needed.

crossroads

“Either way I’m going to die tonight, aren’t I?”

Dean looked up from his preparations and stared at her profile, the bandage on her neck pronounced in the setting sunlight streaming though the motel window. He opened his mouth but the lie died on his lips. The silence stretched until she turned and looked at him, her arms crossed below her breasts.

“You can tell me the truth, Dean,” she whispered.

He stood up from the table and crossed the room in two steps and folded her into his arms. “Yes.”

She tilted her chin up, wiped her tear-filled eyes and turned away.

*

Dean awoke with a start, the side of his face pressed against the leather seat of his car. Rubbing his hands roughly over his face, he squinted at the road signs as they zoomed down the highway.

“You okay?”

“Uh,” he glanced over at his brother. “Yeah, sure. Nightmare, I think.”

“You think?” Sam watched him for as long as he could before looking back at the road.

“Felt weird. Different.”

“Like how?” Sam asked. “Like a prophecy?”

Dean shook his head. “No. Where are we?”

“Twenty miles outside of Newark, Ohio.”

Dean pulled a stack of papers off the dashboard and into his lap. He rifled through them until he came to a recent newspaper clipping. “All right, what do we got? Epidemic pattern of unexplained deaths, livestock mutilations. Disappearances.”

“Disappearing corpses, you mean. Grave robberies. Our type of thing.”

The car rumbled under them as it shot down the highway. Music streamed from the speakers as Dean tried to focus on their next hunt. Vampires, probably. But how many? A nest?

Why was the girl going to die tonight? Why couldn’t he save her?

*

“Tell me why.”

Her mouth twisted wryly into a smile as she folded her clothes and put them into the duffle bag. “I was stupid. I was caught off guard and that made me an easy target.”

The sun sank behind the trees in front of the motel, deepening the shadows along the walls and corners. They were running out of time.

Dean stood, and reached out to clutch her wrist to stop her folding. “That’s not what I’m asking. Why Jessica? Why a woman?”

As his hand slipped into hers, she raised her eyes to find him watching her. A breath caught in her throat. She shivered as his other hand brushed the hair from her face.

To tell the truth would pave the way to madness. But it was him. How could she lie?

*

“I’ve been here before.”

Dean stared out the rain-splattered window at the glistening neon sign. A strong sense of déjà vu slithered down his spine. Sam pulled into a spot and put the car into park. “Have you? When?”

“I don’t know,” Dean said as he opened the car door and stepped out into the rain.

Sam shook his head in puzzlement and followed his brother into the motel office.

Later, Sam came out of the bathroom after his shower and found Dean standing at the end of one of the beds, his hand hovering outstretched over the spread.

“What are you doing?”

“Tell me Sam, why can I feel a girl here? Why can I feel her presence in this room? I swept it with the EMF reader,” he nodded his head towards the converted walkman, “and nothing. There is no activity in this room.”

Sam stared, speechless, the towel he was using to dry his hair forgotten at his side as Dean turned to face him. .

Dean shrugged and sat at the table and opened the laptop. While it was booting he pulled their book with notes and clippings closer to him. “So what do you say we go talk to this Roman Carlson? He seems to be the man in the know according to this newspaper article.”

“Dean, what’s going on?”

He tightened his jaw and narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know Sammy. I don’t know.”

*

“Do you really need to do this?” she asked as he carefully raised her arms above her head and handcuffed her to the headboard.

“You know I do.”

“Dean,” she whispered, “I’m scared. I don’t want to die.”

The silence between them stretched and swelled until it was almost a physical presence in the room. He stroked her face softly. “I know, baby. I know.” With his thumb he flicked a tear from her cheek. Glancing at the nightstand clock, he knew their time was running out. Sunset was only minutes away and then he’d be coming for her.

“You never answered my question before.”

“What?” Her eyes, so like his own, were shiny and even as he watched, another tear tumbled down her cheek.

“Why Jessica?”

She bit her lip and looked away as she fumbled for an answer. He deserved the truth, in case this night went terribly wrong and she never saw him alive again. “Because none of the others were you.”

*

“A dry cleaners?” asked Sam as they pulled up and parked along the curb.

Dean smiled and leaned over to look at the marquee. “What? A dry cleaner is in usually in the center of the town. Everybody has dirty laundry to share.”

They entered the shop with a tinkle from the bell above the door. It was empty, although the clothes conveyor was running. “Be right there,” called someone faintly from the back.

“Maybe we can get these monkey suits cleaned while we’re here,” Dean said as he fidgeted with his collar and tie.

After a few minutes, the conveyor full of plastic covered clothing stopped and a slightly out of breath older man came into view. “Yes? How can I help you?”

“Mr. Carlson?” Dean said and at the other man’s nod continued. “I’m Agent Stark and this is Agent Hutchinson. We’re from the FBI.” And with a flourish of their hands, they produced their fake badges. “We’re here to investigate the disappearances and would like to ask you a few questions.”

Roman Carlson looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “Of course, I’ll try to help in any way that I can.” He ducked down out of sight for a moment, long enough for Dean and Sam to share a bewildered look. “I’ve tried to keep everything current and up to date in here.” The cardboard box had the words Unusual Activities Sharpie’d on the side facing Sam and Dean. “The sheriff and the other agents weren’t interested in it, but you can look through it if you’d like. Like I told them, we’ve been having problems like this in Newark for years. Probably hundreds of years.”

Sam began to rifle through the folders. “How do you know it’s been an ongoing problem?”

“This isn’t the first time we’ve had disappearances like this. It’s been an ongoing cycle for generations. All women.” Carlson stopped and looked down at the counter. “The last victim, Miranda Sanders, is my niece. I can’t believe the cock and bull story the sheriff is trying to sell her parents. She would never have just up and run away. She’s a straight A student with a full scholarship to Cornell in the fall. She was--” he paused for a moment, “is. Is planning to major in Biology. She’s a good kid from a good family. Her disappearance is tearing my sister apart. There is no way she’d be in a place like the Rusty Pearl. But yet, she was there. For some unknown reason, she was seen walking into that place.”

Sam pulled a small notebook from his inside jacket pocket and jotted down a note to look over the Sanders case file. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Carlson. We’ll do everything we can to find Miranda, but what proof do you have this is an ongoing problem?”

“History, Mr. Hutchinson. My family has lived in this area since it was first settled. I remember my parents talking about it in hushed voices when I was a child and it happened back in my grandmother’s day.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Carlson,” Dean said as glanced over Sam’s shoulder into the box, “how would you know something like that?”

“My grandmother kept a journal and, well, I run the Historical Society here in Newark and have access to the files of the State of Ohio Historical Society. Since this town was settled there has been unexplained activity here. I think they must be drawn here.”

“Who?” Dean asked.

“The vampires, of course,” Mr. Carlson said as he pulled his silver cross from beneath his shirt. “And right there is where I lost your counterparts.” With a rueful laugh, he shook his head. “They closed their notebooks, looked at me like I was crazy and told me to have a nice day and they’d be back if they had any other questions.”

“Why would they be drawn here? What’s so special about Newark?” Sam asked, as he pulled a picture of Miranda from the cardboard box.

Mr. Carlson blinked as he put his necklace back under his shirt. “You believe me? Even I think I must be a quack sometimes.”

“Are you?” Sam asked as he pulled a folder from the cardboard box and pretended to read.

“No. No, not at all. But why do you believe me?”

“We like to keep open minds, sort of like Mulder and Scully,” Dean said with a charming smile. “You were saying, about why they were drawn here?”

Mr. Carlson looked from one brother to the other. “Because of the Great Hopewell Road, of course.”

*

He stared at her, his mind refusing to absorb what she had just said. Without thought, without reason and because they both might very well die tonight, he kissed her. Her lips were soft and when her mouth opened beneath his, he moaned in response. Her tongue touched his and sent shivers of desire down his spine, and his cock twitched at the sensation.

No. Do not do this! This is wrong!

But her mouth was so hot beneath his, and her breath tasted of cinnamon. And then with a sudden buck, she tore her mouth from his and gasped in pain.

The sun sank beneath the horizon.

Her body rocked against the handcuffs as she cried out in anguish. Dean drew away from her, and went back to the table. He picked up his bowie knife and continued to sharpen a piece of wood into a stake. He was unable to watch her die.

*

“So what’s this Great Hopewell Road?”

Sam looked up from the computer screen and rubbed his temples. He was developing a headache from sitting in front of his laptop for too long. . “I don’t know yet. I’m still going through all the information Carlson provided us with his Unusual Activities.” Sam motioned towards the cardboard box with his hand.

“Oh, wait. Here’s something we might want to check out. Carlson marked down Jacob Addison as someone to keep an eye on.” Sam paused and smiled. “And Jacob Addison owns The Rusty Pearl, which coincidentally was the last place Miranda was seen.”

He looked up at Dean, who was staring at the headboard. Even as he watched, Dean stood and ran his hands over the wrought iron railing.

“Can you still feel her?”

Dean nodded. “She’s right here. I know it deep in my bones. Why can’t I see her?”

“Who is she? Do you know?”

Dean looked up at his brother, his eyes tormented. “No,” he lied.

*

“A motorcycle bar full of vampires,” Dean said as they stopped in front of a line of bikes. “Wasn’t this a movie? Of course, since I’m the better looking brother, I’ll be Clooney to your Tarentino.”

Sam smiled as they approached the door. The distinctive triple-lead guitar sound of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Sweet Home Alabama wafted over them. “I’m glad to see your sense of humor is back.”

Dean’s smile faded. “I’m not in that room. That’s more than enough to make me happy.”

“We can change rooms, you know,” Sam said as he pulled open the door to the bar.

Dean shook his head and stopped in his tracks. A slow smile spread over his face. “I must have died and gone to heaven, Sam. Pinch me.”

Beautiful women filled the bar from one end to the other. They leaned over the pool tables, stroking pool sticks, sending balls into pockets with audible thumps. They leaned on the bar and smoked cigarettes and drank beer straight from the bottles. One lone man stood behind the bar, his long silver hair tied back with a leather thong. Sam and Dean slowly made their way to the bar, Dean’s smile fading as every woman he passed ignored him.

“What is going on here?” Dean said as he settled onto a barstool. He motioned towards the bartender and turned back to the crowded bar. “Fifty women in this place and not one of them smiles or flirts with me? What kind of joint is this?”

“Two Buds,” Sam said as he pulled a picture from his inside pocket. “Are you Jacob Addison?”

“I am,” said Jacob as he pulled up two beers from cooler. With a flick of his wrist he uncapped them and placed them on the bar.

“I’m hoping you can help me.” Sam held up the picture. “I’m looking for my cousin, Miranda Sanders. She was last seen here, two weeks ago.”

Jacob pulled the picture out of Sam’s grasp. “Your cousin, hmm? Have you ever given any thought to the idea your cousin doesn’t want to be found?”

Sam shook his head in confusion. Jacob slid the picture across the bar. “Funny, she never mentioned a cousin. She’s over there by the jukebox.” They both turned towards the jukebox, but no one was there.

Addison smiled with a humor that didn’t reach his eyes. “Whoops. Now she’s gone.”

*

The sounds coming from behind him pulled his already fraught nerves to the breaking point. She was crying, gasping for air as the infection surged through her veins. The handcuffs clanked against the iron in a frantic staccato as she thrashed against the bed.

After what seemed like an eternity, she fell silent. Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He picked up the silver crucifix and hung it around his neck. Pushing the water gun full of holy water into his waistband at the small of his back with one hand, he tucked the wooden stakes into the inside pocket of his jacket with the other.

From behind him came the sound of a deep-throated chuckle. The hair at the back of his neck and along his arms stood straight up. He turned and faced her.

“Hello, big brother,” she purred, her new fangs shining in the lamplight as she spread her legs on the faded coverlet.

“Samantha.”

She raised her hips with a seductive motion, gyrating against the air above the bed.

“Aw, come on Sam, don’t do that. What would Dad say if he could see you now?”

“Maybe he’d want to fuck me too, just like you do.”

Dean’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t reply. He looked over the table and grabbed the wooden crucifix, shoving it into his jacket pocket. He had a feeling he’d need all the help he could get.

The brothers returned to their hotel room and as Sam opened the door, Dean fell to his knees. Sam turned and pulled Dean up and into the room. “Dammit, Dean. What is going on here?”

“She wants to kill me,” he whispered as he crawled into Sam’s bed. “She’s turned and she wants to feed. Why is this happening, Sammy? Why am I getting flashes of this life that’s not mine? I’m there and she’s there, but you’re not.”

“What?”

“Help me, Sam,” Dean grasped his brother’s jacket and pulled his face close to his. “Before she kills me.”

Sam felt it then, electricity in the room that wasn’t present there before. It was rage, pure unadulterated rage, and it was coming from…him? He could feel the urge flowing through him, the urge to bite, to tear, to drain his brother dry.

Sam backed away from his brother and fled into the bathroom, breathing heavy. He needed to calm down. He leaned over the sink, head down as he tried to steady his heartbeat.

What had Carlson said? The vampires were drawn here because of the Great…what? He had to find out why they were here. When his breathing returned to normal, he stepped out of the bathroom, giving Dean a wide berth. Sam dug through his duffle bag until he found his wadded up suit. He pulled out the notebook and opened up his laptop. Firing up Google, he typed in Great Hopewell Road as Dean moaned and thrashed on the bed.

And as he clicked on the first link, he understood. He and Dean needed to get out of town, fast.

*

As the footsteps tapped closer and closer, Dean felt his stomach muscles tighten. He flattened himself to the wall, which was gritty against his cheek. Sweat chilled his palms. He used both hands to steady the water gun. The door crashed open with a heavy percussion, throwing Dean backwards. The vampire entered the room, his teeth bared.

“Why, hello, Jacob. Fancy meeting you here,” Dean said as brought the super soaker up to his chest and pumped holy water into the face of the vampire. Behind him, his sister screamed and thrashed against her bonds, feeling the pain of her master. Skin ran from the vampire’s face in rivulets, his shrieks of pain deafening.

Still Dean did not let up. He stalked the vampire mercilessly, dousing him with holy water. When the super soaker went dry, he dropped it and pulled the water gun from the back of his pants. Behind him came the unmistakable sound of wrought iron being pulled apart. He needed to finish this soon.

As soon as the vampire stumbled and fell onto his back, Dean whipped out a stake and thrust it into his heart. The vampire screamed as steam began to rise off his body. Behind Dean, hands grasped the back of his jacket and threw Dean backwards into the wall. His sister stood over him, teeth bared.

How long? How long would it take for the vampire to dust and his sister to be released?

She fell on him and with both hands he grasped her chin, keeping those deadly fangs from his throat. She clawed at his chest, drawing blood through his shirt, her hands moving towards his neck.

With a surge of strength, he raised her up and flipped her over, slamming her down on the floor. Her head connected with the wooden planks with a sick thump and she went limp under him.

Dean looked up, and all that was left of the vampire was powder and grime. His head fell onto her chest and with a great sigh of relief, he heard her heart beating. “Sam, Sammie,” he said as he stroked her face. “Come on, baby. Open your eyes.”

He rolled off of her and pulled her into his lap, her long hair sweeping the floor. Back and forth he rocked her, ignoring the blood from the gash on the back of her head seeping down his arm. He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, and her lips, anything he could think of to wake her up.

Her face was wet with his tears when she finally opened her eyes. “Dean?” She whispered, as she brought her hand up to stroke his face. “You saved me.”

Dean smiled as he leaned down and kissed her. “Isn’t that what big brothers are for?”

*

“What the hell happened back there, bro?” Dean asked Sam as their car raced down the interstate. He had a massive headache. “There are vampires there, right?”

Sam nodded. “We’ll have to come back in a few days. Maybe a week.”

“Why?”

“Because the Great Hopewell Road is a ley line. A pretty damn strong one too. It runs from Newark to Chillicothe. And the motel was built right on top of it. That’s what Carlson meant when he said the vampires were drawn there. Of course there would be all kinds of unusual activities there.” Sam punched the steering wheel. “I should have known. We could probably hunt for a month and still miss all kinds of beasties.” He glanced over at his brother.

“So what does that have to do with me and that girl in the hotel room?”

“Because, one of the main characteristics of a ley line is the thinning of the walls between dimensions. I think what happened is there was another Dean in another dimension fighting vampires at the same time we were there.”

“Another dimension?”

Sam nodded. “Another Dean, another Sam. Same hotel room, different plane of existence.”

“Then why couldn’t you feel the other Sam the way I could feel the other Dean?”

Sam’s jaw tightened. “At the very end, I could. I could feel her thoughts, her feelings, and her desires.”

“She? You mean the other Sam was a girl?”

“Don’t lie to me Dean. You knew she was a girl from the moment you woke up from your nightmare on the way into that town.”

Dean pinched the top of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “You’re right. I knew. But I didn’t know what she wanted or why I was seeing her.”

Sam’s smile grew tight. “You were seeing her because the other Dean was in that room with you. As for what she wanted, I think I can answer that. She wants you.”

“What the hell? Me?”

“Not you, you. The other you. She wants the other you.”

Dean was silent for a moment. “And he wants her.”

Sam and Dean glanced at one another and with dramatic shudders, they both nearly tripped over themselves in their haste to swear they’d never to speak of it again.